Take the Words
by Gorramit Girl
Summary: A series of musings and inner-thoughts by various characters about Rose Tyler during Series 1.
1. Manning Up

**Disclaimer**: Doctor Who and its accoutrements are the property of the BBC and copyright of Russel T. Davies and Steven Moffat. This is a work of fanfiction. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Notes**: I've seen Rose take a lot of flack for the way she abandoned Mickey in _Rose_, but it always puzzled me, because I thought it had been fairly obvious that while she wasn't that wonderful of a girlfriend, he wasn't all that great of a boyfriend, either. I think they both had their faults and flaws, and thought it obvious that they were going to grow apart, with or without the Doctor turning up.

* * *

**Manning Up**

****"_Thanks."_

_"Thanks for what?"_

_"Exactly._

He just sort of stood there incredulously as he watched her go running off to join that… _thing_ in that awful box.

It wasn't until he'd wandered home around five in the morning that he'd started thinking clearly again.

She'd actually done it. She'd actually been right. There had been something going on, and she'd helped save London from being devoured by plastic bins and shot by shop dummies.

And then she'd gone and left with an alien, after calling attention to his occasional helpless inaptitude.

Rose Tyler was clearly not the ideal girlfriend.

He'd known Rose for nearly his entire life. He remembered, vaguely, the day her father had died, when she'd just been a baby. He'd watched her grow up around the estates, even played with her both before he'd been too cool to play with a little girl and after when hanging with an attractive teenage girl was acceptable. (The period between when he hadn't given her the time of day he didn't dwell on… he'd been a boy… there were rules.)

He knew Rose Tyler pretty well.

Rose could be thoughtless and she could be selfish. Sometimes she wanted too hard, too much. He wondered if it had anything to with the years that Jackie had struggled to pay bills, managing the occasional trip to a well-established clothing store, and bringing along a string of men that never seemed to work out for more than three months.

He knew that sometimes Rose's resentment would get the better of her and when that happened he would usually find her on her roof, angrily wiping away tears and berating herself for not being more understanding.

Because, for all Rose could be thoughtless and selfish, she was also uncommonly kind… _too_ kind, at times. She was trusting and compassionate and if someone around the estates was in trouble, it wasn't a matter of if Rose would help them, it was a matter of how fast she'd be able to get to them. And it never had mattered if Rose had known the person or not. Even after the time a homeless bum had nicked her purse (with a whopping 5 pounds, a tube of lip balm, and a cracked compact mirror), she'd still managed to see the good in others.

He was angry with her. She'd _left_ him. She'd actually left him. Alone. For an alien. Even hearing it from the _thing's_ mouth that his life was dangerous, she'd left and had done so happily.

He knew that he'd been useless, that he'd panicked. He'd never been the go-to man in a crisis. He'd never had to man up before.

If he were really honest with himself, he'd admit that he wondered what it would be like to be able to just up and leave, with no thought to the world he'd be leaving behind. Would it be liberating? Would he ever have that sense of adventure?

Still, she'd _left_ him.

He knew that she had _issues_ with relationships. For one, she was young. He was five years older than her, 24 to her 19. For another, her fling with Jimmy Stone had done a real number on her, and it had been a few months before he'd even felt comfortable making a move. He'd never tried to push her and on the whole they'd been relatively happy. Safe and content, that was them.

But he'd known, she'd known, that wouldn't be a long-term thing. They'd both known that, even if they'd never spoken it aloud, because being together was safer than facing happiness alone. Rose had sometimes felt as though she'd owed him for being around to pick up the pieces after Jimmy had shattered her teenaged illusions about men. He'd long since stopped trying for romantic gestures (and had learned quick that presenting Rose with roses was a tried-and-true way to earn a disgusted look) and had easily settled into a mundane, complacent sort of companionship with her. Not that they didn't have fun and joke around — they did that plenty — but the spark wasn't there, hadn't been there for a long time.

For all that Rose Tyler was not the world's best girlfriend…

Mickey Smith wouldn't be winning any awards for the world's best boyfriend. He guiltily thought of the e-mails he'd not only not blocked from Tricia Delaney, but had kept and gone through whenever Rose was particularly busy. He thought of how he always told her not to check his e-mails, even when she'd never shown any interest at all in snooping into his life (Which had stung a bit — was he so boring that she didn't think he could mysterious?). He thought of how he could turn anything into an excuse to go to the pub and watch the match, even when he knew that Rose wasn't a big sports fan and that she hadn't cared for pubs after sneaking into them so many times when she'd dated Jimmy, and even when he knew that she was lucky to be alive after that explosion at Henricks and probably just needed to stay home and rest and give her mind a chance to settle down.

They were always going to grow apart, he knew. It didn't stop his affection for her, he knew it wouldn't even help him move on from her. He had a feeling that it would be a long time, if ever, before he got over Rose. He didn't even know if she'd ever come back. But the way she'd left had stung and had forced him to start thinking about where his life was going. Maybe it was time that he manned up, that he really started looking to his future, and not expecting that Rose was always going to be around. (Really, hadn't she just proved that?)

His gran had once said that it sometimes took a hard kick in the arse to get you up and running and on the right track.

Mickey just wished that his hard kick in the arse hadn't come the way it had, and from Rose Tyler, in what could be the last conversation they'd ever have.

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Questions, comments, and _constructive_ criticism are greatly appreciated.


	2. There's Me

**Disclaimer**: Doctor Who and its accoutrements are the property of the BBC and copyright of Russel T. Davies and Steven Moffat. This is a work of fanfiction. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Notes**: I enjoyed writing this. _The End of the World_ has such an interesting dynamic between Nine and Rose, especially with Nine's choice of destination. And, while some people read the "There's me," line in a negative way, I found it terribly interesting to listen to and watch Rose during that part... because it doesn't strike me as uncaring at all.

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**There's Me**

****"_There's me."_

Those words had stayed with him long after they'd finished their chips with malt vinegar and some fizzy, too sugary, too caffeinated drink that Rose had sworn by.

So many others, upon hearing what he had said, about how he and his people had lost the war, their planet, their existence, would have said, "I'm sorry." And others would have meant it, too.

But Rose...

Rose had said, "There's me."

From anyone else, it would have sounded callous and arrogant beyond all reason. As if that person's entire existence could possibly make up for the devastating loss of his entire way of life. As if that person could possibly understand what he'd been through.

Yet the _way_ Rose had said it, with warmth and compassion, it was as if she had said,

"_I'll be here for you, for as long as you want me,_" in merely two words. Not "_I'm good enough for you,_" not "_I can make up for everything you've lost,_" not "_I'm here for as long as I want,_" but "_I'll be here for you, for as long as you want me._"

It felt as though she was both offering her condolences and offering the branch of friendship, tentatively, as if she wasn't quite sure that he cared to have her around.

It had been many, many years since anyone had wanted to be his friend.

And the compassion he'd felt from her, the sympathy, the understanding...

Of course, he knew that she'd never really understand what it meant to lose her entire race, her entire planet, everything she'd ever known. And he sincerely hoped that she never would know that kind of pain and loss.

And yet, hadn't that been the reason why he'd taken her to the end of the Earth? So she could understand, on some level, at least, what it felt like to see one's home planet burn? So she could understand what it felt like to know that one was alone, the last of one's kind?

The Doctor still wasn't sure what to make of Rose Tyler, but he liked her. She fascinated him, intrigued him with her mix of selfish thoughtlessness, impulsiveness, bravery, humor, and compassion for others. She was a puzzle, Rose Tyler was.

He couldn't wait to start figuring her out.

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Questions, comments, and _constructive_ criticism are greatly appreciated.


	3. That's Not Fair

**Disclaimer**: Doctor Who and its accoutrements are the property of the BBC and copyright of Russel T. Davies and Steven Moffat. This is a work of fanfiction. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Notes**: I thought Rose in _The Unquiet Dead_ was really interesting, especially with the parallels not only between her and Gywneth, but Rose and the Doctor. Major thanks to **asweetdownfall** on LJ for looking this over for me.

* * *

**That's Not Fair**

****"_Look. You don't understand what's going on."_

_"You would say that miss. Because that's very clear inside your head, that you think I'm stupid."_

_"That's not fair!"_

_"It's true, though. Things might be very different where you're from. But here and now, I know my own mind. And the angels need me. Doctor, what do I have to do?"_

He hadn't particularly cared for Rose's behavior towards Gwyneth... mostly because it reminded him of himself, truth be told. There'd been times (more than a few) where he'd assumed that he knew best, because he was different, because he had traveled the universe, because he was a Time Lord and all-knowing. (Hadn't he been that way with Rose, earlier? Automatically assuming that the Gelth weren't a threat, because of how they'd pleaded with him and deciding that Rose was out of her element and didn't understand anything at all about what was going on?)

It was always humbling, to be proved wrong.

He wondered where Rose had wandered off to. She'd been somewhat cheery after leaving behind Mr. Dickens, but he'd seen the smile melt slowly off her face, possibly as she recalled what had happened not even an hour before.

He knew that Rose was mourning Gwyneth. She and the girl had struck up a friendship surprisingly quickly. He was starting to wonder if Rose was always so good at making friends with others, with putting others at ease. Hadn't they giggled over boys, like a pair of schoolgirls? It must have been hard for Rose to lose a friend so suddenly. Even knowing that they couldn't stay forever wouldn't have made it any easier for Rose, who seemed to have a compassionate streak that couldn't be dampened.

He found her in the wardrobe, still in her dress, sitting down next to a coral support strut, stroking it gently and talking softly. He didn't want to interrupt her; she seemed so sad. He just backed away and listened quietly outside the door, occasionally peaking in (it wasn't eavesdropping — he couldn't help that his Time Lord biology included excellent hearing, now could he?) as she talked.

"And I just feel so bad, you know? She shouldn't have died, I should have done something more to help her. No one's going to remember her but me and the Doctor, no one will know how she saved the world."

She sighed.

"I was horrible to her. Sometimes I get so thoughtless that I don't really stop and consider what I'm sayin', what I'm doin'."

She was quiet and the Doctor wondered where Rose was going with her train of thought.

"It's just... I dropped out of school when I was 16. There was this older bloke, Jimmy Stones, and he was just perfect, to a sixteen-year-old girl. I couldn't believe that this older, handsome musician was actually interested in a poor girl off an estate. Should have been my wake-up call, yeah? Except he was charmin' and sweet and convinced me to drop out, just for a while, said he wanted to take care of me. Said he couldn't stand to not have me around, wanted me to move in with him. And at 16, I was stupid enough to believe him.

"It didn't work out, thankfully. I learned just how bad blokes could be. Mum was really good about it, took me back once I'd smartened up and left him, told me that everything would be okay, that I wasn't the first girl taken in by a bad boy's looks and charm."

He'd heard her mention Jimmy Stones to the plastic auton posing as her boyfriend at that restaurant. He hadn't put much in store by it, figured that it was just Rose being melodramatic as people her age so often were. This, though… it sounded much worse than what he'd originally thought.

"Anyways, I never went back to school, never got any A-Levels. Just somehow snagged a job at Henricks and went about life. And the thing is, is that I _hate_ it when people look down their noses at me, just because I'm not as educated at them. I know I don't have A-Levels or anything, but I'm not stupid. It hurts, havin' people assume you're stupid and thick just 'cause you're not like them."

She'd never stopped stroking the coral strut.

"And then today I did the same thing that people do to me. I assumed I knew better, acted like I was better, just because I'm supposedly more enlightened, bein' from the future. It was so horrible of me to do that, so unfair of me. I should have known better."

She leaned and rested her head against the coral.

"Guess I'll just have to do better, next time, yeah? Not be so patronizin' and all. You think he'll forgive me for it, the Doctor?"

That surprised him. Of course he would.

"Yeah, maybe he will. Wouldn't blame him if he didn't, though. I really messed up."

She sighed and then giggled.

"Look at me, talking to a spaceship. I don't really know if you can understand me, but either way, thanks for listenin'."

If only she knew. She'd probably figure it out; she was pretty clever.

"And thanks for the beautiful clothes, they're gorgeous. You know, considering I'm human and all."

He cringed. That hadn't been his finest moment.

He heard her stand and then the telltale sounds of clothes being removed. He quickly walked back to the console room, not wanting to be caught and then accused of being a peeping tom.

He couldn't help but think on what Rose had said.

He supposed it was universal, thinking that one was superior to everyone else. He recalled his dead race, the Time Lords... now, _there_ had been a race that took superiority to extremes. He thought of their arrogance, their indifference, the way they'd look down in condescension and scorn for any being that wasn't one of them.

He'd acted that way before, too.

Rose had said that she would try and do better.

The Doctor supposed it wouldn't kill him to try and do better, too.

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Questions, comments, and _constructive_ criticism are greatly appreciated.


End file.
